Page 88 of The Avenging Angel and the Spy
“Who has not heard of the famous general, the youngest son of the Duke of Berkstead? That, I believe, makes you the Honorable Mr. Daniel Sinclair Carr.” She pronounced his title with a kind of savage sarcasm.
“I don’t hold your birth against you, Belle,” he said. “Don’t hold mine against me.”
The quiet reproof in his eyes defused some of her anger, causing her to look away. She rubbed the back of her neck, wishing Sinclair would stop talking, simply leave her be. Never had she felt such a weight of emptiness settling over her heart,not even during those dread days immediately after Jean-Claude had left her. She was so tired. She wished she could just let go of everything, yet even now she was forced to act.
Somehow she got to her feet. “None of this disagreement between you and me is of any importance. What I have to do now is try to think.”
“There is not much to think about,” Sinclair said. “Paulette has escaped. She may even now be relaying her information. We all must be out of Paris by first light.”
“You may go. Paulette cannot be any danger to your precious army now. You have accomplished what you came for.”
Sinclair flinched at her harsh words, but he said, “I go nowhere without you.”
“I intend to stay. My business here in Paris is not finished.”
“You cannot possibly still be thinking of going ahead with the abduction?—”
“No, Mr. Carrington. I am not that big of a fool. But I cannot leave without making some attempt to discover what has become of Paulette. If there is any chance at all she has not yet gone to Bonaparte, I must try to stop her.”
“Are you mad? Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be?” He took a step toward her almost as though he wished to shake sense into her head. Belle drew herself erect, defying him to touch her. He stopped just short, but she read the steely determination in his eyes.
“You are coming with me now, Belle, even if I have to take you by force.”
“Don’t you understand anything?” she cried. “Oh, certainly, it would be easy for you and me to flee this disaster. Our lives are not centered here. But what about Crecy and Baptiste?”
Although the set of his jaw remained stubborn, she could tell her words were giving Sinclair pause.
“Baptiste has already risked enough with nothing but a failed plot to show for it,” she continued passionately. “To be exiled from Paris—I believe it would kill him. I won’t see him make such a sacrifice. Not without making some attempt to prevent it.”
She and Sinclair squared off for a long moment. He was the first to concede. “All right, Angel, what do you want to do?”
“Find Paulette.” She was gathering up her cloak. “I intend to start by going back to that brothel—if you haven’t burned it to the ground—and ask some questions.”
“I will go with you.”
“I doubt you will be welcome there. I will have a much better chance if I go alone. Paulette may even still be hiding there.”
Sinclair regarded her with folded arms. “And what do you expect me to do?”
In his condition Belle thought the best he could do was gain a few hours’ rest, but she knew he was unlikely to do so. After thinking a moment, she asked, “Is it possible you could contact your friend Warburton at this hour? If he and your other agent keep as close a watch upon that guardhouse as you say, it is possible they will know if Paulette has been there.”
Sinclair appeared to turn this possibility over in his mind, and nodded in agreement. He seemed far from pleased at the prospect of letting her venture off on her own, but after gruffly ordering her to take care, he turned to go.
Yet as he stalked toward the door, he paused to look back. “I only want to tell you one more thing, Belle. I did not lie when I said I love you.”
She froze, trying to steel herself against the low-spoken words, yet they stirred her all the same, touching upon a memory. Her heart constricted when she recalled what it was. Sinclair’s words were almost an echo of her plea to Jean-Claude so long ago.
She turned away, not wanting to understand the misery her rejection was inflicting upon Sinclair at this moment, not wanting to, but understanding it all too well.
She heard the door open behind her, and somehow she could not let him go like that. She whipped about. “Sinclair?”
He stopped. She could almost hear his breath still. “Yes?”
She drew in a deep breath, but her pain at his deception was yet too raw for her to do more than confess, “About the pistol. It wasn’t loaded.”
He offered her a sad smile before exiting. “I never really thought it was, Angel.”
Dawn foundBelle’s eyes gritty from lack of sleep, her limbs aching from exhaustion, and she had accomplished nothing. Paulette appeared to have vanished off the face of the earth. Some judicious bribes at the brothel to the sleepy-eyed femmes earned her only the knowledge that Paulette had slipped out during the fight and had never come back.
